


The Worst Kind of Self Destructive

by Spiritfox412



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Friends being concerned, Keith backstory headcanon, Keith is also a very angry bab, Keith throws a fit, M/M, SHEITH - Freeform, Shiro and Keith have feelings, angry space boyfriends, space boyfriends have feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 15:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7513360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiritfox412/pseuds/Spiritfox412
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance’s first mistake was opening his mouth about Keith’s shack. </p><p>Lance’s second mistake was not listening to his fellow paladins' advice for once, to not rise to that tantalizing bait and pick a fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Worst Kind of Self Destructive

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hi, this is honestly the first fic I've wrote in probably 4+ years so sorry if it's not really up to par but I was thrown bodily into this fandom by two of my friends and have become actual trash. I'm also an artist so I might be posting some art pieces as well, I have a fun idea I'm gonna work on when I get a break from school! 
> 
> But until then, enjoy the thing that I wrote in two days in a flurry of desperation after hearing that the second season won't premier until summer 2017 sO 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron: Legendary Defender, and the backstory for Keith is purely from my own headcanon, it'll most likely be way less tragic than I want it to be
> 
> Just some context here, this is set after the Pidge reveal! ;D That way I don't spoil people's fun in finding out.

* * *

 

 

 

          Lance’s first mistake was opening his mouth about Keith’s shack. It made the red paladin all but shut down across the threshold of the common area, frozen in place. Pidge and Hunk looked up from the sprawling couches, bystanders. Shiro stood across the room, Galran arm clenching hard enough on the upholstery the seams were popping. The fierceness of Shiro’s eyes as they bored holes into the side of Keith’s skull almost shadowed the rage beginning to boil inside those bones. 

 

          An unnatural stillness had filled the room in the wake of Lance’s _stupid_ mouth. The silence pounded against the steel walls, eyes of the team darting with rising tension between the two lead paladins. Lance, the culprit himself, stood looking between them as well. Keith stands looking as if he wants to run back through the bay door, hide in his Lion, while something akin to murder glimmers in Shiro’s eyes. 

 

          “Keith-“ “ _No._ ” 

 

          Keith’s voice stopped him, brittle like ice, a whispered snarl that signaled the fine strands of his control were slipping. They can all sense the precipice, the precarious edge Lance had inadvertently balanced them on. Keith’s chest began to flutter with tight breaths and Shiro takes a step towards unsure if to offer comfort or interference. 

 

          “What’s the big freaking deal?” Lance blurted, unable to take the cloying atmosphere between the two pilots. 

 

          The tension snaps like a rubber band, dark blue eyes shooting to Lance with laser focus. 

 

          “Shut the _fuck_ up for once, Lance!” Keith snarled, bristled and eyes blazing. “Just shut. The fuck. _Up._ ” 

 

          The bait is there, dangling and tantalizing. 

 

          “Oh, what did I insult your piece of shit _shack_?!” Lance shot back, temper getting the best of him, stupidstupid _stupid_. “Do forgive me for insulting the great sprawling Estate of _Washout_!” 

 

          “ _Lance!_ ” Shiro’s voice sliced through the tension, sharp and laced with desperation as he moved to act as a barrier between the two. 

 

          He needed Lance to stop and stop _now_.

 

          Lance’s second mistake was not listening to his fellow paladins’ advice for once, to not rise to that tantalizing bait and pick a fight. Shiro moved to block Keith’s sight of the blue paladin, the unnatural tunnel vision his rage narrowed him to until the white haired man was inconsequential. If he had to he’d go _through_ Shiro to get to the loud-mouth and throttle him with his bare hands. 

 

          “You need to stop right now and explain.” Shiro raised a finger at his childhood friend, warning him back from Lance when he’s afraid that the pilot might charge for them both. 

 

          The brittleness of Keith's voice sends Pidge and Hunk to their feet, ready to join into the fray should a fight break out. “There is _nothing_ to explain.” He hisses, the urge to flee gripping him, though his feet felt akin to lead. 

 

          “You _know_ you’re not alone anymore—“ Shiro stilted as Keith forced himself to move, whirling about face and snatching his bayard from the lounge table. “ _Keith._ ”

 

          “I’m going to the training room.”

 

          “ _Good_ , nobody wanted you and your bad mood anyway!” 

 

          “Lance _shut up_!” Shiro snarled, whirling on the teen he’d been prepared to defend. “Keith stop—“ 

 

          Lance looked up with just enough time to watch the dark haired pilot all but tear the jacket from his shoulders and fling it onto the couch. Rage made Lance lash out, wanting to cut Keith down and deep for being such a _shit_.

 

          “You know what Shiro, good riddance!” the blue paladin shouted, Shiro could have _cried_ , the situation was spiraling so fast it was making him dizzy. “Nobody wants to deal with his ridiculous man-pain anyway; he wants to be alone? He _deserves_ it!” 

 

          If it had been any other time Lance would have jokingly asked if the room’s temperature had dropped a few degrees, he would have questioned the pause of Keith’s furious gait out of the room. Lance would have questioned why Keith’s steps continued through the sliding doors as if the teen were walking across shards of glass. It wasn’t another time, the words had hung in the air and stayed there and he couldn’t take them back. 

 

          In the silence there was only the soft clunk of the doors coming back together.

 

          “Lance, dude, that was _harsh_.” Hunk’s voice was deep with disappointment, eyebrows furrowed. 

 

          “Yeah, Lance what’s your deal?” Pidge looked equally shocked by the ferocity of the blue paladin’s words, Keith and Lance fought all the time but low blows were rare. 

 

          He sputtered for a moment. “Because he’s always acting like some badass lone wolf! Always like he’s better than us or something, I’m sick of it!” Lance exclaimed. “What’s so special about that stupid shack anyway?” 

 

          “I don’t think that’s the issue here, Lance.” Pidge groaned, rubbing a slowly throbbing temple. 

 

          “It is.”

 

          Three sets of eyes swing towards the black paladin, standing again with both hands pressed into the back of the couch, fingers loose upon the fabric.

 

          “See?!” Lance gestured triumphantly. 

 

          Pidge’s face pinched before becoming thoughtful. She doubted the shack really meant that much to Keith, but when Shiro had crashed back to earth, she’d watched her previously fellow student pull clothes for him out of his own dresser. It wasn’t a far fetched idea that Keith had saved some of Shiro’s things from Garrison before he disappeared, but the clothes had looked _new_. Certainly Keith hadn’t waited there with new clothes for his friend for a year, certainly he hadn’t stayed there for that long…

 

          “What happened in that shack, Shiro?” Pidge’s voice was small, concerned, and Shiro’s dark eyes didn’t console her. 

 

          There was a long silence before it seemed the words were torn from Shiro’s chest. “I met Keith after he was out of the orphanage and in foster care… he was angry and pricklier than a cactus and nobody wanted to be friends with him.” A fond memory of a too big jacket hiding gawky, long limbs and a raging temper flashed across his eyes. “He was always picking fights and the teachers couldn’t control him at all.

 

          “I didn’t meet him until the second year he was with that foster family, he said it was the first time he’s been in the same place for more than half a school year. He didn’t want to be friends, and I decided that I wanted to be, so we ended up butting heads a lot; got in a fist fight once and he busted my nose.” Lance gaped at that, unable to conjure the image of a younger Keith tackling Shiro at any age. “Eventually he gave in, we became friends.” 

 

          “And the shack?” Shiro was avoiding too much for Pidge’s liking. “You’re dodging, Shiro.”

 

          The black paladin looked increasingly uncomfortable, unsure of his own words. “The reason Keith was in foster care to begin with was because his dad ditched out when he was about four or five. His mom had an affair and she had Keith, his dad could never really look him in the eye.” There was only one picture of the family, a photo of strangers with a crying baby he wasn’t sure still existed. “Keith and his mom lived in that shack together… and Keith waited for his dad to come back but he—

 

          Another sigh slipped out. 

 

          “He didn’t.” Shiro rubbed tiredly at his face. “And then a year later, his mom sat him down to watch the shitty little tv they had and told him she had to go to the store and that she’d be back.” 

 

          The silence that followed was biting, constricting. “Shiro… she didn’t—“ the horror was evident in Hunk’s voice. 

 

          “She left with a bag full of clothes.” Shiro finished, unable to get the image out of his mind. “It took almost two weeks for someone to find him.” 

 

          Shiro had tried to forget it, of all the things he could forget, the image of a six year-old Keith sitting and waiting patiently by the door for his mother to return was burned into his skull. He’d talked to Keith about it at length on two occasions, how Keith had waited by the door with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. How he’d waited almost two days before eating something because he didn’t want his mom to get home and see he’d eaten without her. That every little sound had him jolting awake, hoping, praying that she’d come back, like his dad hadn’t. Ten days he’d waited for her to come back…only to have social workers come say she was gone. 

 

          A ‘problem’ child didn’t stay in one place for long, always shuffled between families, Keith never got attached, flat out refused. Shiro had wanted to befriend him, be some sort of constant in his life…and then he’d been gone too. 

 

          “Shiro, he lived in that shack alone for a _year_ after they announced the Kerberos mission lost.” Pidge uttered with disbelief. “He left Garrison and nobody knew what happened to him.” 

 

          “If there’s one thing I know about Keith… he’s self destructive in the worst ways.” Shiro sighed. “He’d have waited for a lot longer than a year if I hadn’t come back, and I’m not so sure someone would have found him this time.” 

 

          Well, _now_ Lance felt like shit. “How the hell was I supposed to know that?” he muttered, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “Tragic backstory or not the dude has an attitude problem!” 

 

          “I’m not saying he doesn’t Lance, but sometimes you need to stop and think about some of the things you two say to each other.” Shiro snapped, suddenly full of fierce protectiveness. “It was only a matter of time before one of you hit a nerve, you just happened to find a festered one.” 

 

          “So what do we do?” Hunk wondered, three sets of eyes swinging to him in confusion. “Lance told him he deserved to be alone and he stormed off…would he hurt himself like you said?” 

 

          Shiro’s stomach clenches painfully. He’d been so mad, hadn’t thought to go after Keith, not with how tired he was of the attitude himself. At first he couldn’t figure why it had bothered him so much, but he realized it then. He wasn’t used to the moods anymore. Keith wasn’t an angry thirteen year old with a hair trigger temper, it had burned itself out when he’d hit fifteen and decided to go to Garrison with Shiro. Focused on studying and hand to hand, learning how to handle a hoverbike, and the relentless schedule of a cadet that left you too tired to be mad at much. At worst, Shiro had had to deal with occasional flare of tempers that was gone as fast as it had come, and then he’d been stolen away for a year. He hadn’t _seen it_. 

 

          Voices called him back as he sprinted from the room, passing a shocked Allura and Coran on his way out. He would have laughed at them standing on the other side of the doors, eyes comically wide as he barreled down the hallway. Keith was self destructive in the worst ways. At thirteen he’d picked fights, ones he could never win, at fifteen he’d studied to the point of sleep deprivation until Shiro forced him into bed. Sixteen brought hand to hand combat training and Shiro finding Keith with knuckles so bruised he could barely hold a pencil for their midterms. Shiro had to keep his eye too close, learned too quick to spot the destructive moods. Keith had gotten creative and learned to overdo things. 

 

          Like crossing blades with droids in the training room, like he did _every_ night. 

 

          None of them would have noticed Keith spending all his spare time there, hacking away at drone after drone until he was past exhausted and couldn’t feel the rage boiling under his skin anymore. They wouldn’t have noticed until it started to effect the team, until it almost got Keith killed in a fire fight for being just a _second_ too late— 

 

          Shiro burst into the training room to the sounds of metal on metal, of fleet footwork and unrestrained cries of fury and for a moment he couldn’t help but appreciate the ferocity that was Keith in motion. He fought like a hellcat on a good day, this was simple brutality. Stance too narrow to keep him grounded, bayard swinging wide enough Shiro’s own joints ached with the phantom pop of cartilage trying to keep bones together. From his glance towards the control panel on the wall Keith had worked his way to fighting level three again, and had been for a concerning amount of clicks. 

 

          “End simulation.” Shiro ordered, striding forward as the droid dropped mid-swing. 

 

          Keith reacted like a cornered animal guarding a carcass, bristling with defiance. “Resume training level three.” 

 

          “And I said, End Simulation.” Shiro snapped back, only satisfied when the droid’s lights flickered to nothing again. “We need to talk, go shower.”

 

          If anything, Keith bristled harder, rage crackling like a supernova just waiting to ignite. “I don’t want to.” Was the petulant reply, “I was about to beat it!” 

 

          “You're not going to beat anything if you pop your elbow, or your entire _shoulder_ out of socket! What’s the team going to do if you hurt yourself and can’t pilot the red lion?” Shiro shouted, he hadn’t meant to shout, his temper was getting the better of him. 

 

          “I don’t care.” Came Keith’s reply, and it just served to boil the blood in Shiro’s veins because he _knew_ it was a lie. “Resume training level three.” 

 

          His blood boiled and he did the only thing he knew would stop the red paladin, as he’d seen teachers do, foster parents, and even as he had done in the past; he tackled Keith. Shiro surged up behind him, casting an order at the simulator to end, and wrapped his arms around the familiar form. The reaction was instantaneous; Keith twisted and kicked violently, trying to dislodge him, screeching at him. As he wrestled him to the floor, Shiro managed to kick the bayard away and latch his hands to straining wrists more securely. Keith thrashed, trying to throw off the larger body enveloping him, and giving Shiro a few boney strikes to his ribs as he held on. 

 

          “Shiro, get the _FUCK OFF ME_!” 

 

          Faintly he knew the others were watching the exchange, had heard their footsteps and concerned voices but his focus was on holding down the burning star in his arms. Words wouldn’t calm the thrashing, so Shiro resolved himself to holding on and waiting out the blaze. 

 

          “Jesus christ, Shiro, you need help?” Lance’s concerned voice drifted to him as Keith’s thrashing took a nasty edge, both of them tangled on the floor with Shiro trying to keep the red paladin’s face from smashing into the cool metal. 

 

          He felt Keith clench, ready to fling himself at the blue paladin. “I’ve got it Lance, just _back off_.” Shiro hissed, winding their legs tighter when he felt a wayward kick. 

 

          A long time passed as they laid there, he knew Lance had been ushered away by Hunk to find food, told by Pidge to bring some back for her and their tangled friends. For a long time Shiro had to wait for panicked breaths to calm, steady out into a semblance of normalcy even if the tightness of the limbs remained. His neck ached and his muscles were stiff, locked like a cage around Keith. Soothing things were whispered into the hair pressed against his mouth, now that it wasn’t trying to smash his teeth in, thumbs stroking soon-to-be-bruised wrists in apology. Honestly, he hadn’t thought about his Galran arm when he’d grabbed Keith. He’d switched both wrists to his flesh hand when the storm had tempered, pressing the cool metal against the red paladin’s slick forehead. 

 

          Time clicked away until Shiro finally felt Keith go lax, and Pidge had left with Allura and Coran. In the silence his grip on the fiery young paladin had become more comforting than restricting, neither having the will to move from their position on the floor. Shiro breathed in the comforting smell of Keith’s hair, familiar like a fond a memory. 

 

          “I was _fine_.” Barely a whisper carried between them, as splintered as the rest of Keith was. 

 

          Shiro was battered, hardened, cracks running the length of him like weathered concrete. Cracks and splinters tried to slide together again where splinters cut into polished stone and cracks gaped open like a yawning abyss. Keith wasn’t fine, but neither was Shiro. 

 

          “I promised I wouldn’t abandon you Keith, I swore on it.” Shiro whispered back, gently running his metal fingers through the dark fringe on the younger paladin’s forehead, wishing he could feel the softness. 

 

          “You came back though.” Shiro tightened his arms pitifully. “ _You came back._ ” 

 

          Somehow Shiro found himself face to face with those dark blue eyes, noses nearly touching as long fingers gripped the material of his shirt. He’d worried in the darkest of night in those cells, what would he do if Keith thought he’d been abandoned again. What would a star as bright as Keith do if it lost his sun, his Shiro? Keith had told him as much once upon a time, that if he was a burning star then Shiro must be the sun he orbited, the gravitational pull that kept him grounded, constant. Shiro had imagined a six year old Keith, waiting for his mother, but the image of the one he knew now waiting oh so loyally for his return, sent another crack ripping through him. 

 

          “If there was anybody I could count on to come back to me, it’d be you, Shiro.” 

 

          “You could have gone to my parents Keith, they loved you so much they would have taken you.” He tried to reason, could see the sadness in blue eyes and knew the battle was pointless. 

 

          “They were too busy mourning you.” Keith sighed, breathing softly in Shiro’s space. “They lost their son, and they looked at me like I was there to take your place.” 

 

          “We wear the same shoe size though.” The laugh came out as more of a wheeze. “Sounds pretty practical to me.” 

 

          The younger paladin didn’t look so sure, he looked lost and scared, like they were thirteen again and Shiro was all he had. Shiro didn’t want him to be alone anymore, didn’t want him to wait by the door for the sounds of his footsteps for the rest of his life. Above all else, he wanted Keith to be free. 

 

          “We’ll be okay.” Shiro assured him, sounding miles more confident than Keith was sure he felt. “We’ll both be okay…someday.”

 

          Mismatched hands cupped Keith’s face, a matching pair returned the favor. Cracks slid against splinters a little easier. The supernova burned a little lower, rotated around its sun with a lazy whirl and a trail of comets in its wake. Keith knew with the lives they led, as paladins, protectors, that being with Shiro like this was heart ache waiting to happen. He’d had it once already, with ‘pilot error’ splashed across it, with scathing words in his ear saying; ‘too young’, ‘waste of resources’, ‘foolish’. 

 

          Keith knew he flew too close to the sun, flew too close to the inevitable void. He would lay down and die to protect Shiro because it was all he had— 

 

          And Shiro knew he would.

 

          Because Keith was the worst kind of self destructive.

 

* * *

 


End file.
